


The Heart Wants What It Wants

by erixstories



Series: The Unstoppable X-Men [1]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 04:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erixstories/pseuds/erixstories
Summary: Northstar finds himself falling for someone he never expected.





	1. The Talk

“Hey, Northstar?”

Jean-Paul stopped abruptly and turned to see where the disembodied voice had come from. His eyes settled on a chiseled vision of perfection half fluttering, half bounding to catch up with him. “You know, we’re not on a mission Warren. You can call me Jean-Paul,” he cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Warren Worthington III gave the slightest laugh, stopping in front of his teammate. “Well… It’s just… He’s doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

Warren looked around at the clouds as if searching for the right word. “Sulking. Can you talk to him?”

Jean-Paul groaned. “We’ve been over this Warren. Just because I’m gay doesn’t make me a life coach. I’m the last person who should be giving someone inspirational speeches.”

“I know--” Warren said stopping short, realizing he had just agreed with Jean-Paul’s self-deprecation, before continuing. “It’s just that, I think he could really use someone to talk to. Someone who can relate to him.”

Jean-Paul glared at him. “And you think that person is me?”

“Well, you’re both X-Men, you’re both gay,” Warren thought for a moment, then smiled. “You’re both cold…”

Jean-Paul let the words sink in before his eyes went wide and he smirked. “Warren Worthington the _third_ , was that a joke from the stoic Archangel?”

Warren’s smile faded and he furrowed his brow. “It’s just Angel these days, J.P. Well, most of the time…”

There was an awkward silence before Jean-Paul cracked. “Ugh, fine! I’ll talk to the whiny-baby. Only for you, only because you’re pretty.”

Warren started to fly away, shouting back. “I’m telling everyone you have a good heart!”

“Don’t you FUCKING dare!”

*****

“Uh, hi… Bobby…” Jean-Paul started awkwardly, stretching one arm across his chest to hold his opposite arm nervously. He wasn’t comfortable trying to emote or force conversations with people.

Bobby Drake sat in one of several rec rooms in the mansion, tucked into a window-sill reading nook. Trails of nearly dry tears streamed down his cheeks, and he turned his face toward the window to hide them when he heard Jean-Paul approach. Jean-Paul started to reach out to pat Bobby on the shoulder before stopping himself. Was that what teammates did? Friends did that, probably. Didn’t they? Were Jean-Paul and Bobby friends? They were, Jean-Paul convinced himself. He reached out and patted Bobby mechanically on the shoulder twice, then regretted it immediately. Bobby either didn’t notice, or it was so awkward he decided not to acknowledge it. Jean-Paul cleared his throat before continuing. “Just… Stop being so fucking sad!”

That got Bobby’s attention. He looked at Jean-Paul with raised brows and scoffed. “Wow, thanks for the pep talk.” Jean-Paul rolled his eyes. “Okay well I’m sorry I’m not Maya Angelou but it looks like I’m all you’ve got.” 

That caused Bobby to burst into a sob.

“Fuck, sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just mean, you’re young and attractive. So some douchebag broke up with you. The best revenge is living well, as they say.” 

Bobby wiped his eyes. “Are you hitting on me? Have I sunk that low?”

“Wow, okay.” Jean-Paul ran his fingers through his wispy bangs, more for dramatics than anything. “I’m gonna chalk that one up to emotions and pretend you didn’t say that. Look, I’m not hitting on you. Trust me, I’m not so desperate that I need to prey on a wounded animal. Two gay men can just be friends you know.”

Awkward silence.

“Care to tell me what happened, anyway?”

Bobby sniffled. 

“You catch him with another guy?” Jean-Paul probed.

Bobby cut his eyes at Jean-Paul. “Two actually.”

“Oh.” Jean-Paul rubbed the back of his neck, searching for something to say. Bobby beat him to it. “I guess the stereotypes are true. Can gay guys not be in monogamous relationships? Am I the only one in the world who wants that?!”

Jean-Paul stared at the floor, thinking about how he screwed up the last relationship he was in by cheating on the guy. Warren seriously recruited the wrong person to be dishing out relationship advice. Bobby deserved better. He was kind. Open. Emotionally available. Jean-Paul wondered if Bobby's ex was anything like himself. Selfish. Impudent. Broken. Why would Bobby even want to be with someone like that? “The thing is, Bobby… being born as something that people see as different, as bad, as ‘other,’ makes a person develop differently. It can affect their relationships and the way they interact with people, sometimes for the rest of their lives.” _Is this coming out of my mouth?_ “And some people never stop hurting, so they constantly need validation.” _Wait, am I talking about myself right now?_ “And sometimes not even being in a relationship can satisfy that.” _I am definitely talking about myself right now._ “And it’s not about you, and it doesn’t mean they don’t love you. But some people don’t know how to not hurt other people. You deserve to be loved in the way you want to be loved.” _Did I just give another human being real advice?_

Bobby stared hard at Jean-Paul for a second, and slightly turned one corner of his mouth up into a half-smile. “Wow, that is surprisingly insightful. Thanks Jean-Paul.”

“Please,” Jean-Paul touched Bobby’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Call me Northstar.”

Bobby laughed sharply. “You dick.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Just when I thought you were softening up.”

“There’s _nothing_ soft about me,” Jean-Paul said smirking, only realizing the insinuation after it came out of his mouth. “Anyway, uh, if you ever need someone to talk to… I’m sure Beast is available. Later.” He held up a peace sign as he walked away.


	2. Heart to Heart

“May I sit here?” Jean-Paul looked up to see a snow-haired African queen holding a lunch tray, brows lifted in question. “Sure, Storm. You run the place, sit wherever you like.” He looked back down at his phone, engrossed in some game.

“You know, insubordination will not be tolerated.” Jean-Paul looked back up to see Storm’s eyes a milky white, and tiny electrical currents causing her hair to stand up with static as she sat down in front of him.

“Are you serious,” he balked, staring in half horror, half disbelief.

“No, I’m not.” Storm’s lips formed an almost imperceivable smile as her eyes changed to a captivating blue. “I’m just...how do you so eloquently put it? ‘Screwing with you’.” Storm watched as Jean-Paul eased up a little, now in on the gag. “You did know I can joke, didn’t you? You’re not the only sassy one around here.”

“Noted,” Jean-Paul held back a grin.

“I guess none of us are exactly what we seem to be at first blush,” Storm said, before bringing a forkfull of quinoa into her mouth. She chewed as Jean-Paul looked on, then continued between bites. “A little birdie told me about you.” She pointed her fork accusingly at him.

“Oh yeah?” Jean-Paul seemed amused.

“Oh yeah. I heard you have a very kind heart underneath all this machismo.”

Jean-Paul looked amused, biting into his apple.

Storm elaborated. “A certain man of ice seems to be very impressed with you. Talks about how you helped him in his time of need.”

“I just fed him a few words of wisdom. That’s it,” Jean-Paul rebuffed.

Storm shook her head, swallowing a bite. “I don’t know, Mr. Beaubier. It seemed awfully kind if you ask me.” Storm put her fork down and clasped her hands on the table in front of her. “You know, when Logan brought you here I wasn’t sure about you. Not that I was against it, I just didn’t have strong feelings either way. I didn’t know enough about you to be able to judge your motivations. Anyone can fight. In fact, half of our rogues gallery have been X-Men at one time or another. It’s something else entirely to be heroic. It’s about what’s in here.” She pointed to her heart. “Logan recruited you to the X-Men, but now that he’s gone I want you to know that I _want_ you here. You’re not just left over from before. You’re here because you, sir, are a hero. Whether you know it or not.”

“I didn’t really--”

“What did I say about insubordination,” Storm interrupted as Jean-Paul felt a few drops of rain tap his head in quick succession. She winked, then got up with her empty tray to leave. “Oh and Mr. Beaubier,” She paused before walking away. “Thank you for helping Bobby. I know it meant a lot to him.”


	3. Facing the Sentinels

_Boom!_ A sentinel landed slamming into the ground just a foot away from Jean-Paul, the impact sending him flying into a storefront nearby. His body landed with a thud, and he rolled a few times across the pavement.

“Damn.”

He looked up, wincing, to see more sentinels coming in for landing throughout the Brooklyn streets. He managed to stand up, dust himself off a bit, and then assess the situation. “Okay, robo-dicks. Looks like it’s just you and me.”

He propelled himself into flight and hovered in front of the sentinel that knocked him aside before. A brilliant white light exploded as he focused his energy and channeled a kinetic blast toward the robot. It connected, blowing open the chest and rupturing its power source. He repeated the process again and again. The streets looked like a photo shoot as bright light pulsed over and over and he zipped from one robot to the next, using his speed to evade each sentinel before taking it out of commission.  
He stopped to rest for a moment, leaning over with his hands resting on his knees. He wasn’t exhausted; his body could endure a lot more wear and tear than this. It felt more like his mind was cloudy. He was distracted.

He didn’t see the lone sentinel that was positioned several yards behind him, its arm reaching out to expose the energy cannon in its palm. It charged up for a few seconds before firing a powerful blast, hitting Jean-Paul square in the back. He went tumbling through air, eventually gaining control and flying to circle back and blast the machine with a beam of his own. The head exploded off the neck as gears and wire fragments went flying, and it careened into an alley nearby.

Jean-Paul hovered, his mind racing between what just happened and thoughts about an uneasiness he couldn’t shake. Something was keeping him off balance psychologically, and he didn’t like it.

A low whistle rang through the sky as more sentinels rained down. Great, John-Paul thought. Just when he thought he was winning. He wrinkled his brow and heaved as he shot concussive blast after concussive blast. Metal tentacles reached out for him, but he dodged them handily with his incredible speed. More sentinels poured in behind him. He turned to face them, but to his right a bevy of tentacles spewed out toward him. He evaded again and fired a blast at the tangle of robotic tendrils as two caught him around his left leg. He was almost able to vibrate his body enough to break free, but one of the towering metal giants fired a blast that crushed him to the ground. More tentacles, ensnaring his legs. Then his arms. Then his torso. He struggled with every ounce of strength, tossing his sweat-slicked bangs back and forth across his forehead. His fingers dug into his palms as he balled his fists, not ready to lose a fight. He wondered what another X-Man would do in this situation. What would Bobby do?

“Ahhh, end sequence!” 

The tentacles, the sentinels, and the entire landscape dissipated as the danger room reset to its default mode. Jean-Paul laid shiftless on the steel-blue gridded floor and stared up at the vaulted ceiling that had just moments before been a sky.


	4. Doom Bound

“Hey, wait up Jean!”

Jean-Paul stopped in the middle of the hall leading to the rec room and spun around to see who was calling after him. Bobby jogged to catch up with him.

“What’s up,” Jean-Paul quizzed.

“Well, I wanted to ask you something. Storm asked me to put together a team to do some recon mission in Latveria. I was wondering if I can count on you to join my team?”

Jean-Paul’s eyes narrowed. “You want _me_ on your team? Why?”

“We could use someone with your particular set of skills.”

“Wow, right out of the recruitment textbook. I’m touched,” Jean-Paul retorted.

Bobby smiled. “It’s just a recon mission, like I said. We could use someone with speed and flight abilities to get in and get out.”

Bobby reached out to touch Jean-Paul’s shoulder. Jean-Paul blushed, and then realized Bobby was just brushing a piece of lint from his uniform.

“Ya know, usually when a team leader is assembling their squad they assign members, not ask.” Jean-Paul cocked one eye brow.

“Great. Welcome to my team, then!”

*****  
“I’m in position.” Psylocke lowered her binoculars to reassess her line of sight. She was crouched alongside an embankment that surrounded a large penitentiary. 

“Excellent,” Bobby’s voice came through the team’s comms. “Do a psychic sweep of the area. Gambit, Polaris… Stand by. Remember, do not engage. At the first sign of trouble, Danger has the Blackbird ready for retreat.”

“Roger,” Psylocke answered in a steely whisper. She closed her eyes, and a pink butterfly-shaped burst emanated from her orbital area signaling her psychic abilities. “The only players I’ve had eyes on so far are Doombots, but I’m picking up a large number of mental signals from inside the building. It’s hard to read clearly, like there’s a psychic block in place. But all of them are in distress. Fear. There’s definitely something happening here.”

“Understood. Hold position.” Bobby released the button on his earpiece, then turned to Northstar standing next to him. They stood on a small bluff overlooking the penitentiary. “Can you do a perimeter sweep without being detected?”

“I can try.”

“Do or do not. There is no try.”

Jean-Paul met Bobby’s eyes and both smirked. “Yes, master.”

Jean-Paul shot into motion, flying high enough above the structure that he wouldn’t be noticed but low enough that he could make out what was going on. Below he saw men, women, and children in shackles being led by large, green robots through the courtyard and into the building itself. One girl had ears the size of basketballs. Another man was neon green, and a woman next to him appeared normal but was pulsating in and out of visibility.

“Mutants,” Jean-Paul whispered into his earpiece. “They’re capturing and bringing mutants here.”

“Damn,” Bobby said over the comms. “Just what Storm predicted.”

“Mon ami, I hate to tell you but we ‘bout to have some problems…” Gambit’s voice chimed in.

“Report.”

“Large group of our metal friends seem to have noticed us. Dey facin’ us, and ‘bout to head dis way. I’m thinkin’ it time for dat retreat, no?”

“They must’ve had thermal scanning. Damn! Ok, everyone regroup at the Blackbird now!”

Jean-Paul swooped down. “Iceman, they already know we’re here. We can’t just leave those people to die.”

“We have our orders. We need to retreat. We’re a recon team, not an offense team.”

“But we’re all still X-Men.”

Bobby stared into the distance in contemplation and sighed. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “You’re right.” He pushed the button on his earpiece. “X-Men, on me. Change of plans. Polaris, eliminate those robots.”

“I literally thought you’d never ask.”

Lorna charged across the short grassy expanse toward the convening group of Doombots. Before they had time to lift their blasters in combat Lorna swept her arms toward the sky in a swift motion, suddenly lifting the mechanical creatures into the air. As they floated helplessly in mid-air, she brought her hands together slowly before thrusting them apart. The robots were rended violently into shards.

“Done,” Polaris said cooly.

“Roger,” Bobby responded. “Gambit, take out the front door.”

Gambit fingered a handful of cards as he paced toward the front gate of the penitentiary. He gripped them for a moment as kinetic energy flowed from his hands into them, causing them to glow a bright pink. With a flick of his wrist he hurled the cards toward the gate. They connected, and the explosion blew a huge hole in the wall upon impact. “Allons mon ami. Open for business.”

The X-Men walked into the courtyard and surveyed the scene. It was filled with captive mutants waiting to be processed, and more Doombots poured forth from inside the building. With one fist-closing motion Polaris used her magnetism to crush them effortlessly. She then held both hands out in front of her, and the prisoners’ shackles fell off.

Bobby looked at Psylocke and nodded. She returned his nod, and then stepped forward. “Attention! Do not be afraid! We’re the X-Men, and we’re here to rescue you.” 

Bobby lifted a communicator to his face. “Come in Storm. There’s been an incident. We’re gonna need evac for about… 300 mutants. Over.” 

A static came over the receiver, then a beep. “This is Colossus. Storm is currently on a conference call. I’ll let her know right away. We’ll arrange for transport. Over.”

“Psylocke, Northstar… You stay here and keep watch. Gambit, Polaris… You’re with me. Let’s go in and see if there’s anyone with a pulse running this show.” The team nodded in agreement.

Bobby turned to Northstar and put his hand on his shoulder. “I want to thank you for challenging me back there. This was the right call.”


	5. Darkest Before Dawn

“Jean-Paul.” A whisper pierced the darkness, barely perceptible to Jean-Paul from his current location in dreamland.

“Jean-Paul!” A louder whisper, slightly rousing him from his slumber. His eyes fluttered a bit, then remained closed as he gave a low groan and repositioned his arm under his head.

Warm hands moved softly across his thighs through the blanket, before just fingertips danced up his abs and then the full palms resumed exploration of his chest. Jean-Paul’s eyes shot open as he realized he wasn’t alone in the room, and his heart raced as his mind exploded searching for an explanation as to what was happening. It took a few seconds before he recognized the voice. Didn’t he? Bobby. It was Bobby’s voice. Right? Only, something was off.

“Sorry for startling you. It’s Bobby.” The figure loomed above him in the complete darkness. “I just couldn’t stop myself. I know you want me,” he said, tracing a finger around one nipple before running the same hand through the slight patch of chest hair. “And I wanted to show you that I want you too.”  
Why was bobby acting this way? And why was his voice different? Was he putting on a voice to try to be sexy? It was not working, Jean-Paul thought. It came off as whiny. No, not whiny. Something…

Jean-Paul had no time to contemplate as Bobby leaned down and kissed him. He felt a tinge of shame as he leaned into the impromptu kiss, but far be it from Northstar™ to turn a man with a pulse away from his bed. Still, something felt off. It wasn’t like Bobby to act this way, so callow. So brash. Why was he feeling so unsettled by it? Wasn’t this what he wanted? Yes. Definitely. He could feel extremities come to life and his blood pounding in his veins as his hands snaked up to explore Bobby’s body… His _skinny_ body? Something was definitely off here and… NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!

“FUCK,” Jean-Paul shouted as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He pushed Bobby aside, practically knocking him off the bed, as he ran to turn on the lamp.

The room filled with a soft yellow glow. There, sprawled on his bed and looking like a doe in headlights, was young, time-displaced Bobby Drake.

“What the fuck are you doing kid?!” Jean-Paul’s face was red and his heart was pounding, but for a different reason now. 

“I’m not a kid! I’m 18 now, you dick!” Bobby’s expression turned into a scowl, clearly embarrassed and hurt. “Besides, I know you want me. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

Jean-Paul scoffed incredulously. “You must be out of your mind. I’ve _never_ looked at you any way.”

“ _Other_ me,” Bobby fired back. 

“That’s not the same thing!”

“So it is true, you are attracted to me.”

“Don’t you Regina George me, and once again it is not the same thing!”

“What’s the difference? I’m the same person!” Tears formed in Bobby’s eyes.

Jean-Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “Look, you’re too young for me. And you’re not the same person. Not really. I’ve had different memories with ‘other’ Bobby. Different experiences. Different moments. It’s not just about sex. It’s about…” He was at a loss for words.

“Oh shit!” Bobby’s face was half shock, half delight. “Love! You love him, don’t you?” 

Jean-Paul started to blush, but he sobered up and put his poker face on. “Okay that’s enough out of you, you urchin. Out!” He grabbed Bobby’s arm and walked him to the door. He paused, turning to the younger man. “Will ‘other’ Bobby remember any of this because it happened to you?”

“It doesn’t work like that. At least I don’t think so. Why, having second thoughts?”

“No,” Jean-Paul said flatly, pushing Bobby into the hall and slamming the door. He made sure to lock it this time, then turned the light off and climbed back into bed. He tossed and turned for a few minutes before sitting up in the dark and pressing his knees to his chest. He couldn’t keep his head from replaying the entire scene, and there was this nagging feeling building up in his chest. He got up, turned the light back on, and went to his bathroom where he thought splashing some cold water on his face might help. 

Suddenly he was dry heaving, gagging and gagging sitting in his bathtub and not knowing what got him to this point. Bobby. Young, stupid brat Bobby. No, not him. Older Bobby. That was it. He missed Bobby. He wished Bobby was there right then to hold him tight while he told him the whole story, crying and laughing into his strong chest. Bobby, who smelled like Eucalyptus and fresh cut grass and snowflakes, and always knew how to lighten a moment. Young Bobby wasn’t the same. He just smelled like Axe and hormones. 

And then Jean-Paul found himself walking down the dorm halls. He didn’t really remember leaving his room; he must have been too lost in thoughts and emotions. He kept walking through the dimly lit corredors until he found himself in front of a door. Older Bobby’s door. His hand reached up to knock. He froze. It was 2 AM. Had he lost his mind? He couldn’t just wake someone in the middle of the night because he wanted to say… What _did_ he want to say? Could he really express the way he felt right now to the man who caused him to feel that way? He lowered his hand. He couldn’t wake Bobby. It would be too weird. But he couldn’t go back to his room, either. It felt like he was adrift at sea, and the journey to get back where he came from was daunting and heartbreaking but if he didn’t set out he would drown right where he was. He rubbed the back of his neck with both hands and stared at the floor, leaning against the doorframe.

The door opened. Jean-Paul’s heart stopped dead in his chest, and he clammored to stand up straight. Bobby appeared startled to see Jean-Paul right outside his door. “Oh! Hey? Jean-Paul? What…what are you doing out here?”  
Jean-Paul was fast on his feet. “Oh, I was going to get a glass of water and I twisted my ankle...a bit...walking past your door, so I just, um, leaned up against the wall here for a moment and…here we are.”

Bobby furrowed his brow. “Twisted your ankle, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you have to pass the kitchen to get from your room to mine?”

“...Mhmm.”

“But you were going to get a glass of water, and you sprained your ankle?”

“That’s what I’m asking you to believe, yes.”

Bobby gave sideways glance and smiled softly. After a brief awkward silence, Jean-Paul piped up. “Where were _you_ headed, anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I was just gonna go for a walk outside.” Bobby cocked his head slightly. “Do you...wanna come with me?” His face turned serious. “I mean, if your ankle isn’t hurting too much--”

“I’ll be fine, I have a healing factor.”

“You do?”

“As far as you know. And, I’d like that. Let’s go for a walk Bobby Drake.”


End file.
